“Why-” cried she.

“Oh! there you are,” I said bitterly.  “Then Mistress Jermyn is within doors.”

Then I turned and went straight upstairs after her; and, as I went heard the ring of running footsteps in the paved passage out of doors, and knew that the guard was coming up.  The fellow still leaned, dazed, against the doorpost; and the old woman was pouring out scream after scream.

I went after Dolly straight into the room from which she had come.  It was a little parlour, very richly furnished, with candles burning, and curtains across the windows.  It looked out towards the river, I suppose.  Dolly was standing, as pale as paper; but I could not tell—­nor did I greatly care—­whether it were anger or terror.  I think I must have looked pretty frightening—­(but then, she had spirit enough for anything!)—­for I was still in my splashed boots and disordered dress, and as angry as I have ever been in my life.  I could see she was not dressed for Her Majesty; so I supposed—­(and I proved to be right)—­that she was not in attendance this evening.  It was better fortune than I deserved, to find her so.

“Now,” said I, “what are you doing here?”

(I spoke sharply and fiercely, as to a bad child.  I was far too angry to do otherwise.  As I spoke, I heard the guard come in below; and a clamour of voices break out.  I knew that they would be up directly.)

“Now,” I said again, “you have your choice!  Will you give me up to the guard; or will you hear what I have to say?  You can send them away if you will.  You can say I am your cousin?”

She looked at me; but said nothing.

“Oh!  I am not drunk,” I said.  “Now, you can—­”

Then came a thunder of footsteps on the stairs; and I stopped.  I knew I had broken every law of the Court; I had behaved unpardonably.  It would mean the end of everything for me.  But I would not, even now, have asked pardon from God Almighty for what I had done.

Then Dolly, with a gesture, waved me aside; and confronted the serjeant on the threshold.

“You can go,” she said.  “This is my cousin.  I will arrange with them below.”

The man hesitated.  Over his shoulder I could see a couple more faces, glaring in at me.

Dolly stamped her foot.

“I tell you to go.  Do you not hear me?”

“Mistress—­” began the man.

“How dare you disobey me!” cried Dolly, all aflame with some emotion.  “This is my own parlour, is it not?”

He still looked doubtfully; and his eyes wandered from her to me, and back again.  He was yet just without the room.  Then Dolly slammed to the door, in a passion, in his very face.

Then she wheeled on me, like lightning. (I heard the men’s footsteps begin to go downstairs.)

“Now you will explain, if you please—­” she began, with a furious kind of bitterness.

“My maid,” said I, “that kind of talk will not do with me”—­(for at her tone my anger blazed up higher even than hers).  “It is I who have to ask Why and How?”